


What lies beneath

by melian225



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Entry, Coming Out, Community: HPFT, Hogwarts, M/M, hogwarts staff - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melian225/pseuds/melian225
Summary: Apollyon Pringle is the caretaker at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he's been a bit liberal with his punishments of late.Written for the following challenges at HPFT:The Super Minor Character ChallengeThe Coming Out ChallengeThe Literary Quotes Challenge





	What lies beneath

**Author's Note:**

> Text in bold is a quote from Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

It was early May, and the spring flowers were in full bloom. The castle was full of teenagers showing the signs of young love, that spring always brought out. Apollyon Pringle was unimpressed.

“Darn kids,” he grumbled as yet another giggling girl walked past with a flower in her hair. He wondered who had given it to her, whether they would end up as jaded about love as he was. He somehow doubted it.

Trouble was, the flowers dropped petals, and there were perfume stains and make-up marks all through the place. The grounds, where they frolicked outside of the teachers’ watchful eyes, were wet from spring rains and they all tracked mud back inside when they returned. And not one of them even thought to apologise to him, or to even wipe their feet at the great doors of the entrance hall. No, they just expected him to pick up the slack, to clean up the mess they had made.

He stomped through the Great Hall, wand out at the ready, when he heard them coming through. This time it was that redheaded kid, Weasley, with his equally redheaded girlfriend, trying to sneak in without anyone noticing.

“Evanesco,” he muttered at their muddy footprints. “And just where do you think you’re going,” he asked in a louder tone, at the retreating backs of the teenagers.

Weasley physically jumped with surprise. “Just back to Gryffindor Tower,” he stammered, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend. Pratchett or something, she was. Big, muscly brothers. He had no intention of targeting her.

“I think not,” he said slowly, running a finger down his wand as he spoke. “Now, the Headmaster won’t let me string you up by your ankles, and he won’t let me Transfigure you, but don’t think I can’t make your life miserable.”

Weasley looked concerned, and Apollyon heard him whisper to the girl behind him, telling her to leave. She tiptoed up the stairs tentatively, watching him all the time, wondering if he was going to punish her as well.  Apollyon flicked her a glance, but kept his attention on Weasley.

“So, you thought you could get away with being out after hours, _and_ tracking mud through my castle? I think you’d better follow me.”

****

Minerva McGonagall took him aside the next day. “Pringle, can I have a word?”

He slowed his pace so she could catch up with him. “What about?”

“Arthur Weasley.” She had reached him by now and he’d rarely seen her lips so thin.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Out late and bringing half the lawn back with him on his boots. What about him?” He wasn’t sure if she disapproved of the punishment he’d meted out, or if she was thinking he’d not suffered enough.

“Exactly,” she said. “In the scheme of things, Pringle, don’t you think that the punishment outweighed the crime? The poor boy is still in the Hospital Wing. Was a Stinging Hex really necessary? Or the cane?”

“It will stop him from doing it again,” he said stubbornly.

She sighed. “Come with me to my office, please.”

Apollyon hesitated. He was rarely asked into a Professor’s office, and when he was it tended not to be good news. “Yes Professor,” was what he said. She would never know his apprehension.

They walked in silence for a while until they reached the door of McGonagall’s office. She unlocked it and ushered him inside, sitting on the other side of the desk and offering him a ginger newt. He took it, wondering what she was up to.

A minute later they were joined by Albus Dumbledore, who nodded at them both and then sat in another visitor’s chair.

McGonagall cleared her throat. “Pringle,” she said in clipped tones, “Professor Dumbledore and I have been concerned lately about some of the punishments you have been meting out.”

“Those kids are out of control!” he said in his own defence. “Running around, dropping potions and powders everywhere, never wiping their shoes, not keeping their owls in the Owlery so their droppings go everywhere. They need putting into line, that’s what they need.”

She sniffed. “That’s as may be. However, your punishments have been becoming more and more serious. Arthur Weasley may not be released from the Hospital Wing for several days.” She looked at Dumbledore and Apollyon noticed an almost imperceptible nod from the other man. “The other thing, Pringle, is that you seem to choose only male students for your punishments.” She held his gaze. “Is there a reason for this?”

Oh. They’d noticed that, had they? He’d have to be careful, or they might guess his secret.

He took a breath. “The boys are messier than the girls are.”

“Is that so?” McGonagall looked unconvinced. “The girls have the make-up and perfumes, the beautifying potions, the coloured hair. I would have thought that would be just as difficult for you to clean up as the mud from Arthur Weasley’s boots.”

He remained silent. He couldn’t answer her. Didn’t know how to.

After an extended silence, Dumbledore spoke. “Apollyon, I reviewed your application for the caretaker position prior to this interview. You are single and unattached, with no real home to go to. You remain here during holidays, even over summer, when that is not required of you. Yet you have not made friends among the staff, even though some have tried.” He paused, then added gently, “I can understand keeping people are arm’s length, Apollyon. You can be whoever you want to be if you don’t get too close. **How easy it is to lie to strangers, to create with strangers the versions of our lives that we have imagined**.”

He just sat there, refusing to look at them. They couldn’t possibly understand.

The silence grew, until eventually Dumbledore again broke it. “Is there something you wish to tell us, Apollyon? We may understand more than you realise.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. McGonagall called to enter, but once the interloper – one of the Prewett twins – saw a meeting was taking place, he made his excuses and closed the door again.

Dumbledore was watching him. “He is a fine looking young man, isn’t he?” he said quietly. “I have noticed it myself.”

Apollyon started. What was that? Was Dumbledore saying …

He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it. Dumbledore would never understand about the dreams he’d had about the Prewett boys, both of them at once, their chests bare with the muscles well defined …

Or would he?

He stole a look at Dumbledore, who was wearing the most understanding expression Apollyon had ever seen.

“It is a very natural thing, to notice good looking young men,” Dumbledore said. “And there are an abundance of them in the castle. We seek only reassurance that you will not allow this to affect your work in any way.”

He stared, first at Dumbledore and then at McGonagall. She gave him a small smile and nodded. “Your personal life is not any of our business,” she said. “However, as Professor Dumbledore said, it can become our business if it interferes with your work here. Can you reassure us that will not occur?”

He kept staring at them, not sure how to take this. After all, this was pretty much THE most personal aspect of his life. He’d not told anyone about this, ever. He’d thought about it, sure, but it was so hard to know how people would take his admission. This promise of acceptance, though … that was more than he’d ever dreamed about.

Finally, he spoke. “I do prefer the young men to the young women,” he said, the words coming out in a whisper. He looked quickly from McGonagall to Dumbledore, searching for any signs of disapproval, of anything that might mean he was no longer employed. There was nothing. Still, to make sure, he blurted out, “But I’ve never touched one. Not once.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I understand,” he said again. “I do.”

Still reeling from his admission, Apollyon nearly missed the significant expression in the other man’s eyes. When it did sink in, his own eyes widened. Was Dumbledore saying … No, he couldn’t be. Though, with that comment about the Prewett boy …

“I do notice the boys more,” he said, covering up this thought and filing it away as something to ponder later. “Some of the Quidditch players …”

He didn’t finish that sentence. He probably didn’t need to: thoughts of the Prewett twins, the LeStranges, the Higgs boy flooded his mind. He’d never touch – if nothing else these were just kids, and he was far too old for them – but gee they were nice to look at. He could feel his cheeks burning.

“They do not dirty the castle any more than any other students, though,” McGonagall said. “Do we have your word you will be more egalitarian in your distribution of penalties in future?”

He swallowed, and nodded. “Yes Professor.”

“And will you be more lenient in your punishments? Madam Pomfrey tells me Arthur Weasley may bear those scars forever.”

He nodded again. “Yes, Professor.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “We thank you for your honesty, Pringle. You may go.”

He and Dumbledore reached the door of McGonagall’s office at the same time. Dumbledore signalled for him to go first, but then, once they were through , put a hand on his shoulder.

“It is a very difficult thing to do, to say what you just said in there,” he said. “I hope that next time you say those words, it is in much more pleasant circumstances.”

Apollyon nodded, unsure how to respond. He gave a brief smile and began to turn to leave, but Dumbledore stopped him yet again.

“Oh, and Apollyon?”

He turned around to face the older man.  “Yes?”

“It may be worth your while to get to know some of the other staff a little better. May I suggest Professor Slughorn? He keeps an excellent supply of mead in his offices, and I have a feeling you two may have more in common than you realise.”


End file.
